Chapter Ten
What would you do if a stranger asked you questions about spanking? Run for the hills or feel intrigued enough to ask questions?
I don’t know what came over me. I was in a social situation, bored out of my brain and started thinking about spanking out of self-defense. Hey! Can I help it if spanking preys on my mind these days?
Anyhow, instead of the same boring getting-to-know-you conversation, I asked about spanking. It made the interaction interesting, livened things up a little. The reactions fell into two camps. The men were either for or totally against spanking. One guy was disappointed because he thought I wanted to spank him. Call me an innocent, but it never occurred a man would want to be on the end of a spanking. You learn something every day.
I learned something else too. Most of the men who were open to spanking immediately let their minds jump into the gutter. I could see it in their faces. They wondered what else I would do. One of them asked me if he could meet me later for a quickie in the car park. Another asked if I was open to anything. When I asked for clarification, he mentioned BDSM. His eyes glittered with a scary light when he mentioned whips and chains. He might have mentioned anal sex as well, but I was too busy trying to change the subject to take in everything. He was creepy.
All of this made me realize I need to stop talking about my desires. I’m with a man who makes me feel good. The sex is pure dynamite between us, and I live for the times when we’re together.
We’ve learned a lot about each other and something in his background makes it difficult for me to tell him what I’d like, what I need. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’ve come to care for him and I don’t want to drive him away. On the other hand, I know I won’t be happy until I try spanking.
LOL, I’ve had a thought. What happens if the reality doesn’t match my fantasies? What happens if, after all this time, I hate spanking and it does nothing for me except give me a sore bottom? Yeah, wouldn’t that be a real kick? A spanking aficionado who hates receiving a spanking.
Maggie yawned and slapped at the alarm clock, wishing she could laze in bed for longer. Wasn’t gonna happen.
She dragged herself out of the bed and stood. The twisted sheets told the story. She’d tossed and turned for half the night, worried about her most recent blog entry. The post got right to the point. What if she was all talk and no action? A pretender?
She padded to bathroom and flipped on shower. A decision. She needed one. Today.
Either she had to man up and tell Connor what she wanted—exactly what she wanted—or she needed to move on. Use the terms of theirfriends with benefitsdeal to find a man who would spank her without a qualm.
A man without baggage.
An hour later, she ran through the front doors of Barker & Johnson. No puffing. This fitness kick was good for something. Maggie hit the elevator button and tapped her foot while waiting for the car to arrive. Long minutes later the elevator let out a cheeky beep. The doors opened. Maggie stepped inside and waited for them to close.
They’d almost shut when a male voice called, “Hold the lift.” A hand shot between the doors at the same time Maggie hit the hold button.
“Thanks. You know those days when nothing seems to go right?” He glanced at Maggie and continued talking without waiting for her reply. “I’m having one of those days. I’m late for an appointment.”
He grinned, and Maggie couldn’t help smiling back. Taller than Greg but not as tall as Connor, the man had brown eyes full of humor and masculine appreciation. His glance darted to her left hand and back to her face. “I’m Kevin Grainger.” His blond hair was cut short and he had a designer stubble thing going on. The casual look contrasted with the charcoal gray designer suit and pale pink tie.
“Maggie Drummond,” she said, taking his extended hand. His hand bore calluses and a few cuts. A distinct warmth emanated up her arm and she held her breath. Interesting. The elevator reached her floor and came to a halt. “I hope the rest of your day improves. Um, did you choose your tie?”
“I’m getting off here too,” Kevin said with a chuckle. “My seven-year-old niece chose the tie. My sister thought I’d never wear a pink tie but my niece insisted on this one. I wanted to prove my sister wrong.” He fluttered his eyelashes. “What do you think? Does it make me look gay?”
“Your designer stubble is a perfect foil.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
They walked out of the elevator together, both laughing.
“I know this is forward of me, but could I take you out to dinner tonight? I’m not a weirdo. My accountant Greg Somerville will vouch for me.”
“Anyone who cares about making his seven-year-old niece happy must be okay,” Maggie said. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”
“Great.” Kevin pulled out his wallet and handed her a business card. “I’m staying at the Hilton on the waterfront. I can book a table at Whites for around seven. Would that work for you?”
“Seven is perfect,” Maggie said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Greg approaching. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant.” With a wave and a quick smile, she turned away to head to her cubicle before she came face-to-face with her ex.
“Wait. I don’t have your number,” Kevin said.
“I promise I’ll be there,” Maggie said. “I won’t stand you up.”
“Maggie, you’re late. Is there a problem?” Greg asked, his stern gaze going from her to Kevin and back.
“No, no problem,” she blurted.
